


Young Hearts

by erialeduab



Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Multi, and Buffy, because Hale, there are references aplenty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:31:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erialeduab/pseuds/erialeduab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years has gone by since the last portal to Metamoor closed and Cornelia hasn’t really thought about her life outside of being a Guardian very much. She's gone through the motions: going to college, getting a job and a place. She has a boyfriend. But every time she starts thinking about her future as an actual, tangible real thing, her brain shuts those thoughts down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cornelia

Seven years has gone by since the last portal to Metamoor closed and Cornelia hasn’t really thought about her life outside of being a Guardian very much. She’s gone through the motions: going to college, getting a job and a place. She has a boyfriend. But every time she starts thinking about her future as an actual, tangible real thing, her brain shuts those thoughts down.

***

One Year Ago

Kandrakar has just wrapped up the shit show that was the Dark Mother (Cornelia has forgotten what it was even about, all she cares is that it’s over). For once, however, she actually feels like they are done. There is some closure this time – everyone can feel it. Mainly, because of the major structural changes that are going on in Kandrakar, including the changes in their roles as Guardians. Supposedly, they are no longer be called upon to save all the worlds – just Earth. Cornelia doesn’t really believe anything is going to change. Two days or weeks or months later they will be here again going through the whole rigmarole of vague clues, mysterious deaths and impossible enemies. History repeats itself.

The others try to convince her that she is just being cynical. Peter Cook, of all people, senses her uneasieness, and he doesn’t even know about it – about the magic, or the Guardians or Kandrakar or the heart. He can sense that she’s not nearly as relaxed as she should be since she’s finally completed the “project” she’d been working on for the last six months. So he takes her to the beach, since they have a whole day together for once. 

Cornelia started dating him a little while after the portals, and Caleb and everything because… he was easy. He clearly adored her, and he made her smile. And she felt like she deserved a little fun. She completely underestimated the way in which being a Guardian drained the life right out of her. Even when she wasn’t fighting monsters, she was often just trying to catch up on sleep. Peter was amazingly understanding about it all, giving her space when she needed it. She often felt like he was doing way too much to keep their relationship going, she often felt guilty. She tried to reassured herself by remembering that she never asked him to be this way. Never asked him to do ridiculous things and never expected him to be like this. She tried, but it didn’t really help.

Peter loves surfing. On paper he sounds like your typical Californian guy: he’s been in the water since he was old enough to hold a boogie board, after working part-time as a surfing instructor during college he finally realized it was what he wanted to do with his life. Cornelia had found it odd at first, how different he and Taranee were, but eventually saw that the burning passion Tara had for dance was the same passion Peter had for surfing. He’d been trying to bring Cornelia to the beach ever since they started dating, but she had always been too busy. Now, finally, they were here.

“Okay, so we’ll start with lying down first, then kneeling, and maybe if we’re lucky we can move onto standing today if you get the hang of it.” Peter was waist-deep in water, and Cornelia was lying down on her board next to him.  
“The most important thing is balance.” For Cornelia, balance was not usually a problem. She was grounded, both mentally and physically. Balance was paramount in ice skating – keeping your centre, having a firm core. She’d grown up walking with her spine ramrod straight from ballet classes, always in complete control of her movements. Surfing, it turned out, was nothing like that at all.

It’s fun. And funny. Some of her falls are less then graceful, but Peter makes her feel okay for looking stupid. Okay for not knowing something. He laughs with her, and then gives her advice. After one particularly bad fall he says,  
“The waves are constantly moving – you have to move with the wave in order to ride it.”  
“But what about keeping your centre of-”  
“This isn’t skating Cor. You have to be flexible here, and adjust according to the wave, you can’t just predict them and stay rigid. You have to let go a little, and try to feel out the rhythm of the wave. It’s not an exact science it’s – it’s more of an intuition.” Peter struggles with how to explain this foreign concept to Cornelia, and  
she still doesn’t get it for most of the morning. Every time she gets close to letting go, her conscience reeled her back in. She isn’t afraid of falling or getting hurt, but even so something stops her. She manages to stay on the board a little but never properly rides the wave. And then, after almost two hours, it clicks. The element has changed. Ice, while technically water, is solid and directly in contact with the ground. But the ocean? That’s Irma’s element. And yes, it is sort of obvious, but she doesn’t realize that she’s been subconsciously controlling the earth during her skating until she notices she’s (failing) to do it with the waves. She needs stop trying to control the element, because she can’t. She needs to let go of her connection to the earth for a little while and just be. 

So she just lets go. It’s easier than she thinks it will be; but she’s exhausted. The constant onslaught of salt water in her eyes, the tireless waves that pull her down again and again, have drained her. She just stops thinking for half a second, and she’s gone. Thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. It’s like floating, this wonderful sort of bliss; an escape from her mind. All she is focused on is the board beneath her and the waves around her and it is perfect. 

“YOU GOT IT!” Peter’s exclamation jolts her out of her reverie, and she loses her balance, crashes into the water. She surfaces, gasping for air, searching for her board, adrenaline pumping in her veins. Once she finds it, she lays down on it and paddles towards Peter, who is grinning and full of praise “That was perfect Cor! You were absolutely perfect. Until I distracted you of course”. He winks, possibly the largest wink this side of the Pacific, and it’s so cheesy, and yet, on him, utterly adorable. Cornelia smiles and says something in reply, but her mind was elsewhere.

As she starts to calm down she realizes a melancholy has settled over her. She is disconcerted to find herself so… not happy. It takes her a while to realize that this is how she felt before, that in contrast to the ridiculous high of letting go, she’s borderline depressed. It disconcerts her, but she pushes it out of her mind. She tries to rationalize it: she’s exhausted and her body is just reacting to intense physical activity. It’s not like a night of monster-ass-kicking usually leaves her feeling cheerful. She’ll be fine in a little while. So she laughs at the joke Peter has just made and puts on a big, cheery smile.

That evening Peter brings her back to his apartment and makes her dinner. Literally hand-makes some complicated prawn and vodka pasta that tastes absolutely delicious. As he serves them, he says,  
“Okay Cor, confession time: Are you secretly saving the world or something? You are so mysteriously busy all the time, you always have to call me back, you go on impromptu trips at a minutes’ notice…” Cornelia indignantly cuts in,  
“Some of us do have to work Peter! You know my projects don’t follow a strict schedule-” Peter continues as if she hasn’t even spoken,  
“Well that’s a shame, because I like to believe you do. It adds a little spice to my life” Cornelia nearly chokes on her glass of wine at that “See because I like to think that now your latest mission is over, and you are finally free. For an indeterminate stretch of time, yes, but free. And as a reward for tirelessly saving our nation (and all the other nations in the world) I, the wonderfully domesticated chef-cum-server boyfriend, have decided to take advantage of that. Starting here in the kitchen with this pasta and wine and ending” here he looked conspicuously towards his the door of his bedroom, which was slightly ajar, “with dessert”. At this Peter gets up, grinning at Cornelia, who is looking at him half with amusement and half with confusion, and goes towards the fridge. He brings out a chocolate pie and a can of whipped cream, and sets them on the table. 

“You get to pick” Peter offers, pushing both towards her. Cornelia rolls her eyes, but plays along,  
“I think I’ll have to try both before I decide” She takes a bite of the chocolate pie, it’s delicious, of course, and she slowly licks the spoon clean, the look on Peter’s eyes too good to miss. There will be time for the pie later, however. For now, Cornelia is much more interested to see how the whipped cream is going to be used.  
“Mmmm… This is good, but I feel like that’s going to be even better” Peter somehow manages to widen his grin, and offers her a hand, which she takes. He grabs the can of whipped cream with the other and leads her towards the bedroom.

***

Present Day

Cornelia picks up the surfboard and runs after Peter into the water. Peter suggested coming today because it was the weather for a perfect day. It’s just her, the sun and the water right now. She finds herself wishing, more often than not, that she could just allow herself to fall through the waves to something deeper. There are moments when she feels like she could just keep falling, forever. And then she snaps out of it, and starts worrying instead. 

Hours later they’re sitting with their beach towels spread out under them, watching the waves. The moon is out, the stars are up and the tide is coming in when Peter asks, flippantly, “So when are we going to break up?”

“What?” Cornelia jolts out of her salt-water induced haze, confusion and dread bubbling up inside her. 

“You know what I mean” Peter calmly replies, although she can feel a slight sharpness in his tone. “We’re not end-game. When someone turns your life into a romantic comedy, I’ll just be another guy on your way to your happily ever after.”

It’s harsh coming from Peter, unusually so. “My life is hardly the stuff of movies” Cornelia replies, unable to keep the bitter edge from her voice.

Peter seems to realize he’s come off a bit strong, and seems to check himself as he says “I mean- I’m sorry that was so rude. I just- what I’m trying to say is- you seem out of it. I mean, not-not crazy or anything just out… of us. I’m not saying I think you’re cheating or anything like that. It just feels like there is somewhere else you’d rather be. Tell me I’m wrong.” Peter waits for her to say something, for as long as he possibly can, hoping for her to correct him. Cornelia just stares at him, unsure where this is going. A part of her wants him to say something extreme, to not be so damn reasonable about it all, and another fears what he’s going to say next.

Peter finally continues “I’m at that stage my life where I want someone I can have a real future with. I love spending time with you and I like you a lot more than I should, but your heart is not in Heatherfield.”

The last part catches Cornelia off guard, because it’s so specific. Peter doesn’t know about it. About the magic, the guardians, or Kandrakar or any of it. Maybe he just understands her better than anyone else here. Or maybe he’s the only one who will say it to her face. It’s one of the reasons she likes him so much.

“I… How did you know that?” 

“You just… you blank out sometimes you know? Like not in a scary she’s-having-an-episode way, but more of a… listlessness. It’s like you are in some other place. You were doing it this afternoon as well.”

“I was?” Cornelia thinks back to the hot afternoon and remembers. The falling. Maybe that’s what he was talking about. She didn’t realize anyone actually noticed. Then again, this is Peter. “I was.”

“It’s okay, you know. I mean, it sucks, but I guess I’ve been in denial about it for a while as well. I just… I really like you.” He has these puppy dog eyes, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking for Cornelia to see.

“I really like you too” Cornelia looks up at him, honesty written all over her face.  
Peter chokes out a forced laugh “I know. You like me, but you aren’t in love with me.” Cornelia feels the true meaning behind his words before Peter says it “And I’m in love with you”

His frank confession fills Cornelia with guilt. Peter said it has been a while… she remembers being like this since the beginning of the year, after the trouble in Kandrakar cleared up. It had been unusually peaceful this year, and they’d been spending a lot more time together. 

“I… I don’t think I was ever really here, but things were so busy before I never really had a chance to think about it. I hate that you had to tell me this for me to realize it. Thank you.” Cornelia owes Peter so much more than those two words can say, but it’s all she has. “But this… us. It was special. And I truly cherished it” It hurts her to admit this to Peter even if he already knows what she’s going to say.

Peter smiles this sad, knowing smile and lifts Cornelia’s hand up to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on it. “Let me take you home” Always the gentleman. Cornelia doesn’t know how she got so lucky, how she got someone so understanding while she was so blind. He gets up and offers her a hand. She doesn’t need it, but she takes it anyways and they walk towards his car.

***

Thirty minutes later Cornelia is sitting in the heather field outside Elyon’s house thinking. The starry night sky, unmarred by bright city lights is so beautiful. Cornelia knows something needs to change, and now. Breaking up with Peter was the easy part, especially since he did that for her. But now, the next step has to be on her own. She has to figure out what she’s missing. Ask herself the hard questions and hear the hard answers. She closes her eyes and lets her hand roam the heathers around her, clearing out her mind until all she can hear are the dull sounds of the earth hundreds of feet below her. She feels anchored, safe.

She keeps circling back around to what Peter said. You’re heart’s not in Heatherfield. What did he mean by that? Where is her heart? Cornelia tries to think of everything that’s happened since the portals, but she realized nothing important had actually happened. Elyon leaving Heatherfield had been the most painful thing, but she hadn’t ever had a chance to internalize it until a year ago, when all the madness had stopped. She never accepted it, not really. Elyon was her best friend, the only person she could open up to fully. And she’d just gone, and Cornelia was left to deal with the aftermath of that. Cornelia doesn’t blame her. For any of it. She knows Elyon was manipulated by Phobos, knows she had a duty to her country, knows that if she been in her place she would have done the same thing. But that wound hasn’t healed, not with all the time in the world. My heart’s in Meridian. Cornelia knows what she has to do. She wonders what it’ll be like there, but for now she has work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many, many thanks to my lovely beta, Emmagem803.


	2. Elyon

Four years after the portals close, Elyon can’t imagine a life without her responsibilities. Elyon is surprised when she notices it in herself. It takes time, but eventually she starts to see her life through that lens. It’s not a matter of being Good, or Honorable, or Right, even though she tries to be all those things. It’s just about duty.

Elyon often wonders whether the deep loyalty she feels is just guilt over Phobos, or whether she actually feels some innate sense of duty towards Metamoor. She never saw any of this for herself. Not just the magic – she’d never considered being a leader, having to politick and manage dignitaries from neighboring lands.

Her powers didn’t grant her boundless knowledge and wisdom. They still haven’t, and never will. She keeps waiting to feel more resolve about being Queen and her loyalty to Meridian, but it hasn’t happened. She’s just muddling her way through initially, smiling and waving and hoping nobody can sense her near-constant state of inner panic. If someone had taken a picture after Phobos’ defeat, of her floating ethereally over the masses with the Light shining through her, a literal beacon of hope for the citizens of Meridian, she could understand why she looked like the leader they needed. But Elyon feels less than capable, learning through mistakes that she hopes will be worth it in the end.

When she’s not working, Elyon is surprised to learn about Meridian’s liberal culture. Phobos’ reign kept Meridian’s citizens behind the safety of locked doors and shuttered windows, and Elyon had rarely seen anything of the people and their culture. The only Meridian she’d known was dark winding roads and perpetual darkness. Now their hundred-year winter is over, finally. The sunlight has come back, and with it a bustling inner city of several million citizens. It’s not unusual to see couples or triads in any combination you could think of. Despite the intergroup tensions, everyone seems subscribed to the philosophy of “All’s fair in love and war.” Elyon loves it. She loves how open and honest people can be with their feelings. In Heatherfield she’d always had to hide parts of herself – be it stupid, crazy teenager stuff or serious magical ability. Here, everyone wears their hearts on their sleeves.

In middle school, she’d told her Mom about her feelings for Cornelia. Her Mom had simply asked whether Cornelia liked her back, and hugged her tight when she’d shaken her head, trying to blink away the tears. A few weeks after that Matt had moved in, and he was sufficiently distracting for Elyon to try to get over Cornelia. It wasn’t like she had a chance with Matt, every girl in Heatherfield was after him. And anyways, Matt had a thing for the quirky, quintessential, athletic types (a very specific category, as it turns out). Or maybe Matt just had a thing for Wills. Elyon hadn’t fit into either category.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many, many thanks to my lovely beta, Emmagem803.


	3. Cornelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cornelia says goodbye

Cornelia is at Elyon’s old house, which has become their headquarters. Once the FBI (after much guiling from several prominent members of the Heatherfield community) finally relinquished their hold on it, it only seemed natural to move in. Cornelia eventually bought the house and made it official the year they graduated (and she turned eighteen) with money from her trust fund. Her grandmother, who had granted her early access to the fund on the basis that twelve-year-old Cornelia was the poster-child for a ‘perfect Hale’, was shocked. Considering Mrs. Hale’s reaction when she learnt that Peter Cook was dating her _precious_ granddaughter, Cornelia thought she deserved it. She knew the real reason for buying the house, although she’d never admit it to herself. It was the last piece of Elyon left in Heatherfield, Cornelia’s last tangible link to her.

 “So… this is what you wanted to tell us? You packing up your life is your way of giving me the best early birthday present ever: you’re moving to Mars.” Irma laughs, as she and the other Guardians walk into the room. A mountain of packing crates greets them, and they carefully wind their way around them. Cornelia has been packing for the last two days, determined not to waste another second in Heatherfield. 

“I’ve always wanted to visit, Mars is _literally_ the coolest planet–just think about all that potential for life. Or, more realistically, demon monsters.” Cornelia frowns at Irma,

“This is not a joke, Irma. I’m moving to Meridian. I’m going…” _to be happy._ Cornelia doesn’t say the last part. Doesn’t need to. Will pipes up, “Meridian? Cornelia, don’t you want to discuss-”

“It’s not up for discussion.” Cornelia grudgingly explains, “I need to do this. It may seem like a snap decision, but it really isn’t. I miss Elyon and I want to spend time with her. Kandrakar’s been quiet for a while now, and I don’t think I’m needed here. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but… I need this.”

 “What about your family?” Taranee asks. She didn’t need to ask about Peter before. Tara trusts Cornelia did the right thing, knows she wouldn’t hurt him like that.

“I’m telling them I’m moving to Beacon Hills. Some distant relatives live there, from the Hale side, apparently, so Grandmother approved without asking any questions. It’s not like they are going to want to visit, but the cousin who lives there is kind of a loner, and you know how much my family _loves_ those.” Her family had been less than receptive to the craziness of the last few years. Telling her family about magic would make the Dursley’s seem nice. They only started suspecting something was really wrong after the astral drops rebelled (it was a testament to their willful ignorance that they didn’t notice sooner), so Cornelia let them believe she had a psychotic breakdown. It’s funny the things people can make themselves believe when they want to. Her parents had no difficulty putting all the missing pieces together, concluding that Elyon’s disappearance during an “important transitional period” must have triggered some sort of delayed-action episode. And that was that. That was when Cornelia bought the house and left her family for good.

They are going to open the portal in Elyon’s house itself. Cornelia finds it fitting. The guardians have gathered in the basement, and Cornelia is dreading what’s coming right now. The goodbyes. But then, dealing with anyone’s emotions (especially her own) has never been her strong suit. So she steels herself and tries to put on a brave face (it lasts exactly five seconds).

Hay Lin. Airy and light, the direct opposite of Cornelia. They got along a lot better than Cornelia would have thought. Hay Lin and her own special brand of cheery optimism, a soft glow to Cornelia’s harsh edges. There has always been a deep respect there.  Hay Lin is, predictably, smiling through her shining eyes. She gives Cornelia a brief but tight hug and says, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Taranee. There are soft tears, a long hug.

“Cornelia.” The only one to call her by her whole name, the way she prefers it. They’ve never really needed words, and Cornelia can feel Taranee sending her warmth and well wishes and love through her telepathy. It’s more than words can ever convey. In a strange way, Tara reminds Cornelia of Elyon. Shy on the outside, but with a burning spirit.

Irma. Irma actually tears up and Cornelia is shocked. No crying, Irma was never one for melodramatics. Not when it mattered, anyways.

“We all know you are going to miss us like _crazy_ and want us to try to convince you to stay.” Irma’s jabbering as usual, and as usual its nonsense. Cornelia tenses and Irma ignores her,

“Relax Cor. We’ll miss you more.” Irma, usually overflowing with too many words to pay any attention to, surprises Cornelia with that last line. When she hugs Cornelia she whispers “And if you don’t come visit at regular intervals, I. will. _turn._ somebody.” _into a frog_ being the missing operative, words here, and even though she laughs Cornelia has the uncomfortable feeling Irma isn’t joking.

And, lastly, Will. They butted heads constantly. Cornelia learnt a lot about giving up control, and Will was a true leader. Cornelia knows she couldn’t compare. There was jealousy initially, that she was less than, unimportant. Her pride had taken a serious bruising. She thought she could be the glue, but her role turned out to be so different. Will is crying really hard, the tears streaming down her face, like she’s failed somehow, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. If they hadn’t been so close, Cornelia would never have had the strength to leave.

 “Be safe okay? I know Elyon’s there, and Caleb. But be safe. We love you and we’ll miss you.” Cornelia wraps her arms around her tight, wanting to say something to make her stop crying so much, but knowing there’s nothing she can say.

Cornelia gently lets go of her, and Will takes out the Heart and opens the portal. Cornelia walks turns around and looks at the others one last time, standing in that hallowed basement, and waves, just for a second. She sees them waving back out of the corner of her eye, and before she can do anything else she all but runs through the portal, into the blinding blue light and towards her future.


	4. Elyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change.

The first few weeks of Caleb and Elyon’s relationship are gentle, exploratory. Neither really knows what to expect, so they are careful with each other. They take their time because they can. It’s hard to tell exactly when things start to change, it isn’t gradual but the effects are definite. There are all these jagged lines to their relationship, these parts that are hard and sharp and painful, and appear out of nowhere.

Elyon remembers the night they win the case. There is a celebratory party at the castle, and all of Caleb’s fellow associates and murmurers are invited. Caleb is busy congratulating and thanking everyone for their help. Elyon, not wanting to play trophy wife, is off in a corner watching him, knowing he needs this.

He catches her by surprise, a while later when he grabs her waist and turns her around leading her away from the party. He takes her to a dimly lit part of the ballroom and pushes her against one of the grand, dramatic pillars in the ballroom, out of sight of the crowd. His breath is heavy as he breathes near her ear, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispers, hoarsely,

“I want you. Now.” Elyon plays the unwilling voice of reason (being a Queen does that to a person) and replies,“Not here.”   
  
So he just picks her up and carries her to an empty stateroom, locking the door behind them. The room has one of those large round diplomatic tables that Elyon quickly learns are the perfect height for fucking. Caleb grabs her and pushes her up against the door and Elyon feels a rush of heat. They are kissing and ripping each others' clothes off. Now they are both naked, and Caleb's hard dick is rubbing against Elyon's stomach. She reaches down and grabs it, guiding it between her legs. Caleb bends down and lifts her slightly to get the angle right, holding her against the wall as he pushes into her, slowly. The moment he first enters, inside her with just the right amount of friction, Elyon can't hold back a gasp. He holds her there fucking into her deeper and harder until his arms can't hold her anymore, and then before she knows it he's putting her down and pulling out and she's about to complain when he turns her around and pushes her against the table, bending her over. She spreads out her legs and waits, and he pushes into her again, harder this time, with no reservations, hands roughly gripping her hips. She's so wet and the angle is just right. He pushes into her with no regard for politeness or manners or tact. She’s right there with him, enjoying the brashness of it all, the way his calloused fingers are brushing against her clit to the point where it hurts. It doesn't take long for her to come, and it's only a matter of time for him. There is nothing poetic or beautiful when he comes, as he lets out a strangled moan and leans heavily on top of her. There is an empty silence after, as they put their clothes back on. No one notices them quietly rejoining the party, considerably sobered up.

After that night things start to change, little by little. Caleb’s career takes off and Elyon’s diplomatic travelling increases. They know they can't be there for each other, don't have expectations that they can. They don’t have the luxury of hours and days. They don’t have the time for cuddles and soft, languid kisses. They spend their time together frantically, trying to get some sort of release before they have to go back to work. It’s a race to the finish, of who can get the other off first. They rarely reach the bedroom, or get all their clothes off. If it weren’t for her magic, Elyon would be very sore.

They still get to know each other better, despite the changes. They realize they are more alike than they thought. Sometimes they don’t talk for days because they are just too busy, or indifferent, or both. And that’s okay.

They have fights. And somehow, that’s okay too. They have real, serious fights, but for some reason nothing ever threatens them. Usually, the fights just end up in the rough sex they’ve become accustomed too. One day, Caleb is mad at Elyon because she won't sleep with anyone else. It's not that she doesn't want to - but she just hasn't yet, and Caleb thinks it's unhealthy. Thinks that she's not getting it out of her system, that she needs to at least spend time with someone when travelling for two or three months at a time. Elyon laughs at that, a small bitter laugh which makes Caleb squirm.

"I am perfectly capable of fucking or not fucking whomsoever I please" Elyon can't stand it when Caleb talks in his typical calming manner. Sure it can be endearing but right now it's pissing her the fuck off. Caleb's standing by the bed, he probably thought this would be a short conversation before bed, but both of them know that was a foolish thought.

"I'm not saying you aren't. I'm just saying that you need to make time for it. Just take a day or two, relax. Enjoy yourself." Caleb's logic is fucking infuriating.

Elyon walks up to him and pushes him onto the bed, and then walks back to where she was by the dressing table. Or tries to, but he grabs her arm and looks at her with his pathetic, hopefull face. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of winning, she pushes him back down and climbs on the bed herself, straddling him.

"I will fuck whoever I want whenever I want. If I ever feel like fucking that Argyntian textile heiress, I will fuck her." As she says this she starts unbuttoning his shirt, quickly and efficiently, ripping it off and starting work on his pants.

"You don't need to fucking tell me to do so" She doesn't swear a lot, but for some reason she finds the need to be vulgar right now. Caleb's naked now, completely exposed with his dick half-hard. Elyon steps back for a minute and grabs her sash from the table before climbing back on him. She ties Calebs hands together above his head with the sash , tighter than absolutely necessary, and loops it around the bedstead. She's wearing a light summer dress, but makes no move to take it off. She grabs his dick and it hardens under her grip, one sharp tug and he's erect, painfully so, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Elyon positions herself over him, grinding on him. She still has her underwear on, and the friction is too much for Caleb, but his hands are still tied. He moans, loudly, hoping to elicit some kind of response from Elyon, but she's determined to stay on track. In fact, she just presses down harder, lifting her hips and almost slamming into him. She takes his dick in her hand and pushes up against the fabric, right into her pussy, as far as it will go. It feels so good, but he can't do anything, just wait for her to be satisfied with the torture. She tugs at his dick a few times with one hand, and finally moves the fabric to one side with her other, slowly guiding his dick into place. Caleb cries out when she lets him enter her, so very slowly.The friction from the underwear is almost too much for her, but Elyon goes slowly deliberately, filling herself up with Caleb's dick entirely before lifting her hips, raising them just above it and slamming down again, back arched, hands on either side of his face. She's not even looking him, eyes closed in the dimly lit room, focused entirely on her own pleasure. She's making circular motions now, getting so very close, the pressure on her clit is just right-

  
They develop this pattern, of being frustrated and fucking, and it isn’t sustainable. Eventually one of them crashes and burns, and they are forced to talk about what’s bothering them. And as much as they dread it, dread dredging up the past with its regret and pain, they are always better off for it.

There are, essentially, bad days. And some days are worse than others.

Elyon and Caleb are in her chambers. Elyon is straddling Caleb on the couch. She rakes her fingers through his hair and pulls it back sharply, biting his lip and almost drawing blood. It takes her a while before she realizes something is wrong. His hands drop from her waist, limp by the sides of his body. When she takes control, Caleb doesn’t always try to regain it, but he always responds. He’s always there in the moment, with her. Elyon stops immediately, pulling back to see Caleb with his eyes squeezed shut, breathing laboured. She can feel him trembling underneath her, knowing he’s trying to keep it in. She murmurs, softly, “Caleb, Caleb, hey it’s okay. It’s okay. You can cry. I’m right here… ” She holds his head against her chest for a while, just whispering softly. She only relaxes when he returns the hug, bringing his arms around her waist. They stay like that for a while.

Eventually she untangles herself from him, and sits next to him on the sofa, turning to face him and waits for him to begin.

“I don’t know why it happened right now, but I… It felt like I was still in the Garden. It just hit me, all of a sudden. I killed so many people on his order, and I knew what I was doing. The others… they never had a choice. But I did. I didn’t have to do it, but I did. It makes me feel so… weak. Useless.” They’ve both spoken about Phobos before, about the war, but this is the first Caleb’s spoken of his time in the Garden.

He looks down, refusing to meet Elyon’s eyes, hands shaking. It’s not unlike Caleb to speak his mind, but this is different. That slim invisible armour he always dons, its slipping away right now. Elyon takes Caleb’s hands in hers, squeezing, ignoring the tears welling up in her own eyes.

“Caleb, you are the strongest person I know. Protecting yourself doesn’t make you weak. He would have killed you if you hadn’t. You saved thousands of lives when you got out. And that’s because you knew him better than all the rest of us. And what about me? Phobos was my brother, the same blood ran in his veins than mine. And because of that, I let him use me. I let myself believe the delusions, the lies, and I chose to help him. You didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t-”

“I betrayed Cornelia! I… I betrayed everyone who ever loved me, or cared about me. My parents. My friends. I ordered their deaths countless times. They forgave me for everything so long ago, but I can’t just let it go. I can’t just forget.”

“Who’s asking you to?” Her words seem to have had some effect on Caleb, because he looks up straight at her. “I don’t want to pretend like my past never happened. As much as I want to forget Phobos I know I won’t. I can’t. And sometimes it gets bad, like today, but we have each other to get through it. Our pasts made us who we are, and we have to accept that.” This isn’t right. She’s meant to be helping him. And yet now it is Caleb offering comfort and wisdom. He always does this, always turns the tables when they’re about to get somewhere. Just when she thinks he’s going to take that armour off. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she asks him anyways, in a controlled voice, “Is that what you did with Cornelia? Just move on?” Caleb holds her gaze and replies, just as evenly, “Yes.”

 

The lie doesn’t quite roll of Caleb’s tongue quite as easily as he would have liked.


	5. Caleb and Elyon

 “I loved her.”

Elyon’s brash statement catches Caleb off guard, but he isn’t exactly surprised.  
“I know” It’s a week or two after they first get together, and Caleb and Elyon are taking a walk around the grounds.

“You- wait, what?”

Elyon stops walking and stares at him.

Caleb looks at her with a soft look on his face, smiling. Sometimes he forgets, amidst the royal garb and grand palace, that Elyon’s past is so different. Sometimes, when she’s with him she’ll slip into the colloquialisms of Earth. He decides to play along and tease her a little.

“Of course you love her. She’s your best friend right? Friends love each other here too you know.” 

“Oh.” Elyon frowns, and then looks relieved. “Yeah, you got me, that’s totally what I was talking about-”

“Because best friends always talk non-stop about each other when they’re gone.” Elyon nods encouragingly as Caleb continues, “About their passions and their dreams. About all the little things they miss, like what that person’s eyes looked like in the sun or the precise way their hair used to fly when they did a complicated jump. You aren’t _best friends_ if you don’t want to spend all night together sitting under the stars-” Elyon gives Caleb a hard shove, precariously close to the edge of the lake.

“One more word and I will push you in.”

Caleb starts chuckling and makes a my-lips-are-sealed gesture. Elyon wonders if he learnt that from her. 

“So you really knew?” Caleb nods slowly, and Elyon lets go of his shirt and steps back a little. Just enough to let him breathe. 

“Was I that obvious?”

“You _are_ that obvious.”

Elyon knows it’s pointless to try to argue otherwise. It’s been too many years and the feelings have never gone away. Not when she convinced herself that Cornelia was only into guys, not when Cornelia started doodling those sketches in class. Not when she found Peter and Elyon found Caleb, not even then. For some reason, she hasn't gotten tired of loving Cornelia after all these years. She doesn't have much time to think about things like this, but it's nice that she still has that. A little piece of her first home, even if she only remembers it fleetingly, when she has the time to switch off.

“I love her.” She likes the sound of it on her tongue, so she says it again, with a smile on her face. “I love her.” She knows she's stating the obvious, but it feels like a revelation right now, in this moment. It feels so good to get it off her back, to be free of it. She doesn’t think about what it means that Cornelia will never love her back. That Cornelia will always be her first love, and she will never know.

“I know.”

“I love you.” She leans in and punctuates this sentence with a kiss. Caleb smiles.

“I know that, too” 


	6. Cornelia

“Cornelia!” 

As soon as Cornelia walks through the great, gilded doors of the Elyon’s castle she’s attacked by a blur of straw-colored bangs and studded tiaras as Elyon launches herself on her. Cornelia returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, gripping Elyon tight. She’s here. At last. Here, in Elyon’s arms, she really believes that this could be home. Someday.

Eventually, Elyon loosens her grip and steps back, still holding Cornelia by the shoulders.

 “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I woke up this morning convinced it was all a dream and now you’re here and I-” Elyon’s eyes widen and she corrects herself “You must be exhausted, I heard the portals are getting more and more taxing these days. I can show you your room and you can freshen up, and then we can have lunch.” Elyon continues talking, taking Cornelia’s hand in hers and leading her up to her room, and Cornelia relaxes, enjoying the soothing sound of Elyon’s voice bouncing off the castle’s walls.

They spend a lot of time the first few days just catching up. Elyon loves to braid Cornelia’s hair. Cornelia finds it peaceful, just letting herself go as Elyon’s delicate hands create all sorts of beautiful braids. 

Elyon’s fascination with Cornelia’s straight blond hair goes back to when they were toddlers. It made Cornelia feel bad, because Elyon would always compare herself. She’d told her mother about it, but Mrs. Hale had brushed it off, telling her to ignore it, because Elyon was just jealous. Cornelia stopped telling her mother about the things that made her uncomfortable shortly after that conversation. 

Right now, it’s all so _normal_ , how it used to be. Before… everything.

Sometimes Elyon’s hands linger for a moment, in her hair, or on her shoulders, but Cornelia doesn’t mind. It’s confirmation that she’s wanted here, that she made the right decision to come to Meridian.

“So… Peter. The last time I saw the two of you, you seemed pretty serious. What happened?” As it was inevitably destined to, their conversation has finally come around to boys. Cornelia is sitting in front of Elyon’s dresser and Elyon is making a delicate princess braid.

“It- We- We were. Serious. But he saw right through me – saw I wasn’t happy in Heatherfield. I don’t even know how he knew, but he did.” Cornelia looks at Elyon in the mirror and smiles softly “He was right of course, so I can’t even be angry at him.”

Elyon’s grinning to herself now and Cornelia notices “What? Why are you smiling like that?” Elyon grins even wider, and replies,

“I was just thinking what it would have been like if someone had broken up with you in high school? I mean the probability of it happening would have been next to nothing, but can you imagine if it did? The Grumper sisters would have literally put it on the cover of the school paper and everyone would be talking about it. No one would believe someone would have the balls to break up with you.” Cornelia starts laughing at that. She always knew Elyon saw the best in her, but really this was stretching it.

“Really, Elyon? You think that no one would have the balls? I don’t think you are remembering teenage Cornelia correctly. She was more than a handful. ”

“I remember teenaged Cornelia being way too graceful for high school. You were the complete package: you were beautiful and smart and athletic.” Cornelia half-laughs, and it comes out a little bitter,

“It’s funny because I remember teenaged Cornelia being stuck up, holier-than-thou and rude." 

“That was just your tough exterior. Anyone who really got to know you would know that. I mean, really, how did Peter find it in him to give you up?” Elyon’s looking at Cornelia with large hazel eyes, genuinely asking.

And Cornelia, well, Cornelia doesn’t really know what to say to that.


	7. Caleb

Cornelia is Elyon’s shadow her first few weeks in Meridian, learning about the people and their customs. Elyon comes alive with Cornelia by her side. She’s got a bounce in her step. It sounds clichéd because it _is_ clichéd. After all, there are only so many things a person can feel, and so many ways they can express those feelings. Caleb watches Elyon, and he kind of gets it. So what if she tells him, deridingly, about stories they tell on Earth, the ones with happy endings and white horses and rainbows? Her insistence that she absolutely deplores them, that’s what tells him that somewhere, deep, deep down, a part of her wants it. 

It’s the part that you can’t rationalize or reason with. The part that was written back when you were a child, learning what the world should be like, the world in which justice is more than a word. Caleb knows Elyon has buried that piece of her under a mountain of skepticism and cool, defensive aloofness. 

He envies that she has that at all, truth be told. There was a time in her life where she could dream and hope, where she really, truly, believed that the world was a wonderful place. Caleb wishes he had that, even a vague memory of a broken promise would be better than the harsh beginnings in Phobos’ garden.

So, when a piece of Elyon’s fantasy comes true, Caleb encourages her to enjoy it.

*** 

Caleb loves to watch Elyon in the mornings, bustling around the room. Today she’s planning for a busy day, magicking things left and right.

“Someone’s in a hurry this morning! What have you got planned?”

Elyon opens her closet and starts summoning out outfits one by one, and rejecting them with frightening speed.

“I have to give that speech for the dignitaries, remember honey?” Caleb always feels odd when Elyon refers to him with terms of endearment. He doesn’t know why, it’s not like it’s another “Earth thing”, but it doesn’t feel like the name belongs to him. It suggests this constructed world, these constructed relationships and roles which don’t include the words ‘master’ and ‘slave’. It comes to Elyon so easily, yet another thing that comes from her past, from before. He is orphaned in that sense, orphaned from society, for that timeless period which can feel like millennia.

“I remember, but you don’t usually go into a frenzy over what to wear for some old, stuffy women. What is it?” Elyon seems a little hyper today, and Caleb guesses its something to do with Cornelia.

“Well it’s Cornelia’s first time meeting the dignitaries in her official position, and she seemed to be freaking out about it so I just want everything to go smoothly-”

“I doubt she’s going to be very calm when she sees you.” Caleb reluctantly gets out of bed, but only because he doesn’t want their room to turn into a disaster zone. He wraps his arms around her, and Elyon’s attention gets diverted. “Your clothes are flying out the window” Caleb frowns at her in the mirror, “I was trying to prevent that from happening”

“Well” Elyon turns in his grip and kisses him until he’s a little bit heady “Don’t. Distract. Me.” She punctuates each word with a kiss, untangles herself from his arms and sends all the clothes flying back into the closet with a slam. She arranges her hair and walks towards the door, ignoring Caleb’s weak pleas to come back and finish what she started.


	8. Cornelia

Elyon is giving a speech for the dignitaries and ambassadors of various kingdoms, and Cornelia challenges anyone not to stare. It’s Elyon’s ice-skating, and Cornelia can see the rush she gets from it. 

The hush that falls across the room the moment before Elyon starts her speech is like the moment of silence before the music starts. The anticipation, the tension of what is to come, overpowers everyone and everything. Elyon loses herself in that moment, and exposes this other side of herself so gracefully. It doesn’t matter what she’s saying, Cornelia doesn’t really understand any of it – points to specific, to complicated for anyone other than the people in this room to fully understand, but it’s the conviction with which she says it that holds her attention.

Something in Elyon has changed. It’s her Elyon: the bangs she used to hide behind, the two simple, efficient braids, the spare makeup. None of that’s changed. But something has shifted. 

Cornelia figures she can sense it because the powers of Earth include life. She never really paid attention to it before, because they only dealt with raging monsters (they were all monsters, the human ones most of all) or freshly dead monsters that they had just slaughtered. Neither state was something she liked to dwell on, much less explore.

But now, she feels it. Fully. This feeling of confidence and self-subsistence in Elyon. Cornelia never noticed the lack of it before because Elyon was happiness and comfort and _home_ , but there is a glaring gap between the new Elyon and the old.

Elyon had been shy and reserved around others when they were kids. Much too shy for awkward middle school romances (where Cornelia had been haughty), Elyon had her half-hearted obsession with Matt. But she’d also been carefree, surprisingly so. Cornelia had been envious of how Elyon always seemed to be at peace with herself. There was no need for perfection, no grueling urge to be serious. Not even Cornelia’s gravitas could contain her for long.

Now, the most potent thing Cornelia can sense is the power that is radiating off of Elyon – and not the magical kind. It overpowers everything else. She’s happy for Elyon, proud of her in every way. There’s just one thing that bugs Cornelia. It’s this new levity she senses. It comes with the power, is inseparable from it. But she hopes that it hasn’t replaced carefree Elyon. None of them will ever go back to the way things were before the portals but Cornelia hopes Elyon hasn’t lost her old self completely because there was so much good there. (Unlike Cornelia, who has tried for so long to distance herself from that old self).

On the ice, Cornelia reveled in the anonymity the ever-present cloak of mist provided her. Up on the stage, Elyon bares her soul to a large, intimidating crowd. She’s inviting these strangers into her heart, something Cornelia could never do.

Elyon delivers the last line of her speech with perfection. Despite knowing that Elyon’s given almost exactly the same speech many times and in many variations, it still feels like this one was special. Like it was written just for her. There is silence for a few moments, as its effect washes over the crowd. And then someone starts clapping and the spell is broken, just like that. Elyon takes her bow, and comes down from the stage.

Elyon finds Cornelia immediately, and spends the next several hours introducing Cornelia to every single person in attendance. Right now, they are meeting the ambassador to Syrilia, the twenty-sixth (yes, Cornelia is counting) so far. It doesn’t go beyond the generic four-line exchange, and Cornelia finds her attention drifting again and again, towards Elyon. Just observing her. Noticing the little things. Her bangs, for example. Cornelia can’t imagine a Queen with bangs. And yet, on Elyon they look perfect, the delicate circlet adorning her forehead making her status clear. What does Cornelia know about royalty, anyway?

A thought comes to her mind: Elyon’s not a mystery, but her beauty is enigmatic. What a dumb thought. It’s something she would have come up with when she was fourteen. Another thought comes to her, a realization more than anything: Elyon is absolutely gorgeous. Cornelia has known this for years. Cornelia just wants to – to what, exactly? Suddenly she’s not quite sure. Be Elyon? No. That can’t be it. Be with her? She doesn’t let herself think about those thoughts, because now’s not the right time or place, and Elyon has doesn’t have a clue.

* * *

 

Later that night, when Cornelia is as far from Elyon as possible, she allows herself to think. To relax, to let the thoughts and feelings and emotions just come pouring back in. Truth be told, they terrify her.

When she closes her eyes it’s Elyon she sees. It’s Elyon she breathes, and feels and dreams.

Her feelings for Elyon, whatever they are, are visceral and present and Cornelia hasn’t allowed herself to feel this way since… a year ago, maybe two she would have said Caleb. But the more she thinks about that the clearer the memories become, and she sees just how... foggy their relationship actually was. What she felt, what she thought she felt. Her time with Caleb wasn't real at all - it was just a dream, a vivid one, maybe, but just a dream. Elyon is real. What they have... What Cornelia thinks they have is real. 

And that terrifies her.


	9. Cornelia

It started when her parents started fighting, years before Elyon's disappearance, before Kandrakar and the heart. When her life had been shit, but normal.

She’d grip her bedpost and think of anything, _anything_ but the latest yelling match in the living room. Because it was _always_ in the living room. They could never take it somewhere else, somewhere private.

The bedroom, the balcony, the car even. No. Because taking it somewhere private would make it a real fight, and the _perfect_ Hale household did _not_ fight. They debated. Argued, at worst.

So she would hole up in her room and grip her bedpost like she was clinging on for dear life, until her knuckles were white and hurting and she would just feel the vibrations of the earth twenty stories down, under the buildings and roads and tar and pipes, beyond anything humans had interfered with. She would listen to the sound of things growing, ever so slowly. She thought she just imagined it. She should have known she wasn't nearly creative enough for that. Unlike Irma, who had believed she had magic immediately, or Will who had accepted her household friends as natural and normal, Cornelia lived in denial. Rationalising everything, normalising everything.

She could hear the mitosis of cells, the splitting of one into two, four, eight. She couldn’t describe the sound, the process, the rhythm to anyone. It calmed her, listening to the predictable rhythms of the earth and the gentle cadences of the life that lived there.

When she learnt about her powers, she started practicing. In front of the others she acted skeptical, but she knew it was real from the minute Hay Lin’s grandmother told them. She tried to listen without touching anything but learnt physical contact was necessary. She could hear the sounds of people in the apartments below. Sometimes, when her parents started fighting after an exhausting day of school and stressing about Elyon, she would listen to the quiet, ordinary conversations that other people had. Pretend that it was her parents who cared enough to ask their children how their day was, and whether they needed any help with homework or a ride somewhere. Her parents who kissed each other on the cheek when they saw each other in the evening, who smiled and laughed and joked around. But there was just her, with Lilian too young to understand and Cornelia too proud to tell her friends what was really going on because none of them were Elyon.

Elyon knew. Of course Elyon knew. She was the only person who knew the things that mattered about Cornelia, the only one. Even after everything the guardians had been through, Cornelia still trusted her the most. It was instinct. 

Sometimes in Meridian, Cornelia can hear Caleb and Elyon, a floor above her in Elyon’s rooms. The sound of them brushing their teeth or turning the pages of a book, or quietly murmuring each other good night. The castle is so quiet at night, it’s as if she’s right there with them. It soothes her on the days she’s alone in bed, isolated in this grand palace. Tonight, Elyon is telling Caleb about his eyes. She hears sounds of kissing, and stops herself from listening farther, as usual. But she can’t stop thinking about them.

She imagines sounds of kissing, the bed rustling as they turn over, rearranging themselves. The kissing stops but Elyon gasps, Caleb is kissing one of her breasts now. There are more moans as Cornelia pictures Caleb moving slowly down Elyon’s body, kissing every inch of her. Cornelia wishes it was her name on Elyon’s lips and her lips on Elyon’s body. She knows she should stop doing this, stop imagining them, _now_ , but she is caught in the fantasy, trapped. She can barely breathe.

***

She’s still recovering from the intensity of it all when it clicks. What she’s done, why it’s not okay, why it can never be okay.

Afterwards she wonders if she should be jealous of Caleb. Or Elyon. Or both of them. Of what they have.

She does listen to them, after that, sometimes. Never going past the kisses. Some days, they’re tender and loving, kisses soft and wet. They whisper sweet nothings and take it slow. Those are the days she likes the most, that’s the Elyon and Caleb she knows. But most days they are rough, so rough, clacking teeth and banging furniture, and she’s shocked by it. She stops listening those days, because she doesn’t want to know, doesn't want to see the other side of it.

 She never _ever_ listens when they talk. That feels like the real betrayal.


	10. Cornelia

Cornelia and Elyon are walking in the grounds, towards the lake just behind the castle. They lie down near the edge of the river, shoulder to shoulder. Elyon gently holds her wrist, stroking it with her thumb in soft brushes. After a little while Elyon turns to face her, and Cornelia tries her hardest to just _be_. To not put up that veneer of coldness. It’s an automatic reflex, like breathing. Easier, even. It’s the only way she can separate things in her head, keep her crush from Elyon at bay. Not blush when she says something embarrassingly cute, or get lost in that her awful, nervous smiles. She doesn’t want to put Elyon in an awkward situation, doesn't want to lose this bond, this closeness. Constantly being in Elyon’s company makes it very difficult. She wants to open up to her completely, but she knows Elyon will work it out if she does. She thinks she's done a pretty good job of hiding it, of striking the right balance. 

Of course she hasn't.

“I've missed this” Elyon starts, her voice floating gently across the lake. “I've missed you”

Was it always so strong? Elyon’s pull? Or was she just blind before-

“I know the way you look at me sometimes and I get it. Betraying you was probably the worst thing I did, and I understand if you can’t ever trust me the way you used to, let alone..."

 _Let alone what?_ Cornelia wants to ask, but she keeps on speaking 

"I’ll spend my whole life trying to make it up to you, and it still won’t be enough. I thought maybe my punishment would be staying apart from you, but now you’re here I have to-”

“Elyon” Cornelia curses herself for her idiocy. Of course Elyon figured it out, and of course she interpreted it in the worst way possible. She screwed up, again and now Elyon’s practically in tears.

“No, let me finish, please." Elyon's grip on her wrist tightens slightly and there's an urgency in her voice. Cornelia quiets

"I know you’ve forgiven me even if I don’t deserve it. But I have to tell you this time, I can't just keep it to myself for another ten years… I-I’m in love with you.”

 _What?_ It takes Cornelia a second to process what’s she is hearing, that she said  _In love_ and not love, that there's no ambiguity about it, but Elyon has already taken her silence as a no and the tears are streaming down her face as she drops Cornelia's hand.

“I- I should go-” Elyon sits up, trying to leave.

“No, Elyon. Wait” Cornelia grabs the hand that was just holding hers and pulls Elyon down on top of her. Their faces inches apart and Elyon's breath is heavy and uneven.  "Cor-" Before she can finish the word Cornelia pulls Elyon's face towards her and kisses her, one hand snaking around her neck, the other on her hip. She doesn’t know any other way to tell her.

Words are useless when she can kiss Elyon’s fears away.

It’s an _I love you_ kiss. Of course it’s not just _like_. No, that would be too easy. Cornelia always falls way too hard and this is Elyon. Elyon pauses and pulls back for a split second, trying to understand, and then she’s tangling her hand into Cornelia’s hair and kissing her back.

Until Cornelia remembers.

“What about Caleb?” Open arrangement or not, this isn't just anyone. This is Caleb, and her, and Elyon and they are anything but normal. 

Cornelia wants to say she’s sorry. Thinks she should feel guilty, especially after her own history with Caleb. She’s not perfect. But it doesn't matter, apparently, because Elyon just says "He knows", cups Cornelia’s face and kisses her again.

 

Only later, in the quiet of her own bed, does Cornelia realise Elyon never told what it was, precisely, the he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear any thoughts!
> 
> The title is inspired by Vanessa Carlton's Young Heart.


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